The Phantom of the Opera
by Flagger
Summary: This is the basic story of PotO, but it is entirely from Erik's POV. Rated PG-13 to be safe. A bit of violence, innuendo, and language. Mix of movie and the musical.
1. Prologue

Hello, peoples! Just a few comments. I do not own anything relating to PotO, and I'm not getting any money out of this. Please don't sue. Anyways, this story follows the storyline of PotO and has mostly the same lines and such, but this is from Erik's POV. Super funness with that. Also, most of the songs are in there, but I had to switch a word or person saying such here and there, so be warned of that. This story has nothing bad in it besides a few swear words and some mild violence, so....yeah. I hope you enjoy the story thus far. It is a work in progress, and I will finish it asap.

The Phantom of the Opera

Prologue

My name is Erik, though I doubt that my name matters to anyone. I am known to many as the Phantom of the Opera, or the Opera Ghost, if you would prefer. Despite what people call me, I am no phantom, ghost, apparition, nor any other super-natural being. I am simply a man.

Unfortunately, I am not normal in any stretch of the imagination. I am an architect, magician, composer, designer, ventriloquist, and practically everything else relating to the arts which I hold so dear. My voice can be described as both beautiful and eerie, depending on how I want it to sound. I can make my voice sound like it is coming from anywhere—the sky, behind you, far away, in your ear, all around you. I doubt that anyone else on this pitiful planet can say the same.

If you looked upon my face, you probably wouldn't even think me human. God must have been playing one awful joke on the world when he allowed someone like me to be born. This is why I always wear a mask. My mask is one of the many reasons that people refer to me as a phantom. It also causes a certain curiosity for some who would wish to see my face, without even considering the reason why I hide it.

My past is a bit of a sore topic for me, between the loathing from my mother and my childhood as the unwilling member of a traveling fair. They called me the "Devil's Child." Those fools would force me to show my face to crowds of people several times every day. If I refused, they would beat me until I was too weak to fight back. One fateful day, a young girl—about my age—who was one of the people in the crowd laughing and jeering at my face pitied me. She did not laugh when the rest of those _people _did. After that "show," I used the very ropes that had bound me to strangle the life out of my oppressor. She saw me do this, and instead of running for help, she helped me escape. She took me to the theatre that is, to this day, my sanctuary and artistic domain.

I live in the basement of the theatre, on the shores of the underground lake. I do not take well to visitors. Most who venture into my home never return to the light of day, whether by my hands or the traps I have set everywhere. As far as I know, I am the only one who knows the safe route to my home. That isn't surprising, as I am the one who designed the traps and placed them on the path that leads to the lake. I even have a trick that I use to stop people from crossing the lake in my boat that I refer to as the "Trick of the Siren." If I don't want a person in my lair, then that person won't reach my lair.

Ever since I was born, I have known nothing of love or kindness, save that one time when the young girl brought me to the theatre. She works in the theatre, actually. She is the ballet instructor. Her daughter is one of her students, and is a rather promising talent. I think I can trust her as I trust her mother, but she isn't the one who has my interest. In fact, the girl that I have fallen in love with is another ballet student. Her father was a famous violinist, and she has quite a bit of musical talent, herself. I have been giving her singing lessons for the past three months, but she has never seen me. She believes me to be an angel that her father used to talk about before he died: an Angel of Music. Her voice, under my guidance, has become beautiful enough to make the golden angels decorating the theatre weep. Yes, Christine Daaé is very talented indeed.


	2. Chalumeau's Hannibal Rehearsal

Chapter 1

Chalumeau's "Hannibal" Rehearsal

It is the year 1870, and the cast of the Opéra Populaire are rehearsing for that evening's production of "Hannibal" by Chalumeau. I'm not exactly _riveted _with the production, but I would be listening from below the stage, nonetheless. The lead soprano for the show is La Carlotta, who sings like a banshee, in my opinion. She is so much of a prima donna that she disgusts me.

I was watching the rehearsal from the catwalks above the stage, being careful to stay out of sight of Joseph Buquet, the man in charge of the backdrops. He seemed rather drunk, and he was drinking deeply from a wine bottle. He yawned loudly as Carlotta was singing her part, and I felt inclined to do the same. I hated everything about her. She was the most arrogant women that I had ever seen.

"This trophy from our saviors, from the enslaving force of Rome!" she sang. I stirred uncomfortably. She could make birds fall out of the sky. I grinned to myself as the rehearsal was interrupted by the manager, Lefevre, and the two gentlemen who would be the new managers of the theatre. I took a certain pride in the fact that Lefevre was leaving because of me.

"I'm sorry, M. Lefevre," said M. Reyer, the conductor of the orchestra, "we _are _rehearsing." _Indeed, _I thought. _If you can call _that _mess a rehearsal. _"If you wouldn't mind waiting a moment?"

"No, not at all," Lefevre responded. "Come, gentlemen. We can watch from the side of the stage." The rehearsal continued, and Signor Piangi, whom I consider to be a fat oaf, continued with his lines.

"Sad to return to find the land we love threatened once more by Rome's far-reaching grasp," he sang. "Tomorrow we shall break the chains of Rome. Tonight, rejoice—your army has come home." I fought the urge to laugh as he ran to avoid the ballet girls, who had just come onto the stage. I kept my eyes on young Miss Daaé. Apparently, she knew that I was watching her, and she fell out of step. Madam Giry, the ballet instructor that I have known since I was a child, tapped the floor with her cane.

"Christine Daaé! Concentrate, girl!" she said. Christine got back into step, but she still seemed troubled. Feeling slightly rejected, I turned my gaze onto Madam Giry's daughter, Meg. She is definitely the most talented dancer that I have ever seen.

As the scene continued, a life-size replica of an elephant was moved onto the stage. Inside of it, I could see four stagehands drinking booze. _That explains why the people here are such gullible fools, _I thought. _People will believe anything when they're drunk. _I struggled to suppress a bout of laughter when Piangi tried and failed to climb onto the back of the elephant. No doubt his weight was to blame for that.

As the elephant was wheeled off the stage, Lefevre moved to the center of the stage with the two new managers. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "may I have your attention?" _This ought to be good, _I thought. "As you know, there have been several rumors flying around of my retirement. I can now confirm that these are all true, and I am honored to introduce you to the new managers of this opera: M. Richard Firmin and M. Gilles André." There was a scatter of polite applause. He turned to Firmin and André. "Gentlemen, let me introduce you to our lead soprano, Signora Carlotta Giudicelli." Carlotta bowed politely and offered her hand to them. I shook my head in disgust. "And Ubaldo Piangi." Piangi bowed his head respectfully.

"If I'm not very much mistaken," said André, "Carlotta has a very fine aria in act three of 'Hannibal.' Could you, Signora, give us a private rendition?" Carlotta blushed.

"If my managers command," she replied sweetly. "Maestro."

"If my diva commands," Reyer said.

"Yes, I do." Reyer began to conduct the orchestra, and Carlotta began to "sing." I had had enough of this. This woman could not be allowed to sing in tonight's show. I noticed that Buquet had left, and I got a sudden idea. I dropped down to his station and untied the ropes that held the backdrop up. Instantly, the backdrop fell down toward Carlotta, who was still singing.

Carlotta stopped singing when she heard the backdrop crash to the floor behind her. The backdrop had almost hit her, and I wouldn't have minded if it had. I would have liked to stay and see how this worked out, but I heard Buquet running my way. I jumped up and grabbed the rope that was above me. I climbed it until I reached a switch that I knew opened a door in the ceiling. After hitting the switch, I slipped through the door and out of harm's way. I would see if my plan worked at the show.

I made my way down to the stage. Madam Giry, luckily, was right by where I came out. She sensed my presence and looked around for me. Once she saw me, I approached her. "What is it?" she asked.

"Give this to the new managers," I said quietly, handing her an envelope sealed with red sealing wax shaped like a skull. She nodded and took the letter. "Thank you." I went back into the passageway and sealed the entrance.


	3. The Show and the Visit

Chapter 2

The Show and the Visit

I was on one of the several basement levels below the stage during the performance. Apparently, my plan worked perfectly. Instead of hearing Carlotta's "voice," I was hearing Christine's. She was singing beautifully. I'm sure that everyone in the theatre agreed that her voice was perfect. I wasn't mistaken when I decided to be her teacher. She had improved greatly from where she started.

"Recall those days, look back on all those times, think of the things we'll never do," she sang. "There will never be a day when I won't think of you." The crowd's applause could reach me down there as easily as Christine's crystal voice could. I knew that the crowd was enjoying her voice as much as I was. The best part of it was that she was singing for me. "We never said our love was evergreen, or as unchanging as the sea, but please promise me that sometimes you will think of me!" she finished. I sighed and began to make my way to her dressing room.

I made it there in good time. The performance was only just ending, and the performers were taking their final bow. I slipped into her dressing room through the mirror which conceals the quickest path to my lair. I placed a rose with a black velvet ribbon tied on it on her table and went back through the mirror. Knowing Christine, she was probably heading for the room in the theatre where she had set up a small memorial for her father. Sure enough, I was right.

Christine was in the small room, lighting a candle above the picture she had of her father. She was still dressed in the dress she wore for the last scene of the show. "Bravi, bravi, bravissimi," I whispered loud enough that she could hear me. To her, my voice sounded like it was coming from all around her. She smiled, and I left to return to her dressing room.

I waited for her to come, and after a few minutes, she did. I watched her from behind the mirror. This mirror was special. When someone in the room looked at it, it was a normal mirror, but from my side of the mirror, I could see into the dressing room. She came in with Madam Giry. "You did beautifully," Madam Giry told her. She noticed the rose that I had left on the table and picked it up. "He is pleased with you." She passed Christine the rose.

When Madam Giry left, Christine stood in front of the mirror and looked at her reflection. Without thinking, I raised one of my hands and touched the surface of the mirror. I wished that I could be touching the warm, smooth skin of her face, not the cold surface of the mirror. She sighed and sat down at her make-up table.

The door to her dressing room opened and a young man walked in. He had shoulder length brown hair, neatly trimmed sideburns, and brown eyes. I recognized him as the Vicomte de Chagny. His family was very well respected, and very wealthy. "Little Lotte, let her mind wander," he said to Christine, who turned around and looked at him. "Little Lotte thought: am I fonder of dolls or of goblins or shoes? Or of riddles or frocks?"

"Those picnics in the attic," Christine added.

"Or of chocolate?"

"Father playing the violin."

"While we shared with each other dark stories of the north."

" 'No, what I love best,' Lotte said, 'is when I'm asleep in my bed and the Angel of Music sings songs in my head.'"

"The Angel of Music sings songs in my head," he repeated. Christine hugged him.

"Oh, Raoul, it is you!" she said happily. _They know each other, _I thought. _This could turn out to be dangerous. I have to show myself to her tonight. She must be brought to my lair. _"My father told me that when he was in heaven, he would send me the Angel of Music," she told Raoul. "Father is dead, Raoul, and I have been visited by the Angel of Music!"

"No doubt of it! Now, we'll go to supper!" He began walking toward the door.

"No, Raoul. The Angel of Music is very strict," Christine said. Raoul grinned.

"I shan't keep you up late!" Raoul responded. This boy just wouldn't take a hint.

"No, Raoul," Christine begged.

"You must change, and I need to get my hat. Two minutes, Little Lotte." Raoul left the room. I felt a surge of anger toward him. While Christine was changing, I used the tunnel I was in to get to the outside of her room. I turned the key that was in the lock, locking Christine in the room. She was, of course, expecting this. I had been giving her lessons at this time every day for the past three months, after all.

When I returned to the tunnel behind the mirror, I saw that Christine was done changing. It was time for me to speak with her. "Insolent boy, this slave of fashion! Basking in your glory!" I said. She looked around, startled by the angry tone in my voice. "Ignorant fool, this brave young suitor, sharing in _my _triumph!"

"Angel, I hear you," she responded, frightened. "Speak, I listen. Stay by my side, guide me! Angel, my soul was weak. Forgive me! Enter at last, Master!" Her words calmed me.

"Flattering child, you shall know me. See why in shadow I hide," I said softly. "Look at your face in the mirror. I am there inside!" She was in front of the mirror, and I slid the mirror into the wall, allowing her to see me.

"Angel of Music, guide and guardian! Grant to me your glory! Angel of Music, hide no longer! Come to me, strange angel!"

"I am your angel," I said hypnotically, my voice echoing eerily in the room. "Come to me: Angel of Music." I extended my hand to her, and she walked toward me. "I am your Angel of Music!" I continued. "Come to me: Angel of Music!" Christine paused for a moment before finally taking my hand.


	4. The Lair of the Ghost

Chapter 3

The Lair of the Ghost

I led her along the passageway behind the mirror. Though I was holding her hand, I couldn't help but look back at her every few seconds out of fear that she would go back. "In sleep he sang to me," Christine whispered, more to herself than to me. "In dreams he came. That voice which calls to me and speaks my name. And do I dream again for now I find the Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my mind."

"Sing once again with me," I said to her. "Our strange duet. My power over you grows stronger yet. And though you turn from me to glance behind, the Phantom of the Opera is there, inside your mind." We had reached a long ramp spiraling downwards. I found myself looking at the ground more than I was looking at her. I had installed traps in the floor that, if stepped upon, opened and trapped the person who stepped on them.

"Those who have seen your face draw back in fear," Christine said. "I am the mask you wear…"

"It's me they hear," I finished. "My spirit and your voice in one combined! The Phantom of the Opera is there, inside your mind." Before us was a large lake that was coated with silver mist. On the shore was a boat. I helped her into it before entering it myself. I grabbed the staff that was next to the boat and used it to move the boat along the water. "In all your fantasies, you always knew that man and mystery…"

"Were both in you," Christine said. "And in this labyrinth where night is blind, the Phantom of the Opera is here, inside my mind."

"Sing, my Angel of Music," I said softly. Christine began doing a singing exercise that she had done at every one of her lessons. She started at a high note, went down a little, and went down a few notes, and returned to the note she started on. "Sing for me." She went higher. "Sing, my Angel of Music." She went higher, and we passed under the gate into my lair. "Sing for me!" She reached an E, a note that even I can barely reach. Content, I didn't tell her to go on. We had reached our destination, anyway.

On the shore of the lake by my lair, there were candles that rose out of the water, casting their shimmering light everywhere. I had an organ in the center of my lair. I spent a lot of time there, composing. The decorations in my lair consisted of candles and red velvet drapes on the walls. A few of these drapes covered mirrors.

I stepped out of the boat and walked a few paces toward my organ. I turned around to face Christine, who was looking around my lair with a look of wonder on her face. After she had taken it all in, she looked back at me. "I have brought you to the seat of sweet music's throne," I told her, "to this kingdom where all must pay homage to music. You have come here for one purpose and one alone. Since the moment I first heard you sing, I have needed you with me to serve me; to sing for my music.

"Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation. Darkness wakes and stirs imagination. Silently the senses abandon their defenses." I walked back to the boat and helped her out of it. "Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor. Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender. Turn your face away from the garish light of day. Turn your thoughts away from the garish light of day. Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light and listen to the music of the night.

"Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams. Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before. Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar, and you'll live as you've never lived before." I was showing Christine around my lair. She examined the model of a stage that I use for composing operas. "Softly, deftly, music shall surround you. Hear it, feel it, closing in around you. Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind in this darkness which you know you cannot fight—the darkness of the music of the night.

"Let your mind start a journey through a strange new world. Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before. Let your soul take you where you long to be. Only then can you belong to me. Floating, falling, sweet intoxication." I took one of her hands and pressed it against the normal half of my face, which was not covered by my mask. "Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation. Let the dream begin. Let your darker side give in to the power of the music that I write. The power of the music of the night."

I led Christine to a small area of my lair that wasn't visible from the shore of the lake. In this area, I had a life size manikin of Christine dressed in a wedding gown. As soon as Christine saw this, she fainted. I caught her and carried her to my bed. I laid her down on it. "You alone can make my song take flight," I whispered. "Help me make the music of the night." I moved away from the bed toward my organ. I would speak to her again in the morning.


	5. A Large Mistake

Chapter 4

A Large Mistake

It was morning. During the night, I had delivered letters to the managers and the Vicomte. I was sitting at my organ when Christine awoke. She was walking around my lair, examining my belongings more closely than she had the previous night. I watched her for a few seconds before going back to my work. For the past few years, I had been composing an opera. The name of the opera is "Don Juan Triumphant." At the rate I was going with it, I would be done it in a year. However, if I worked on it for several months without rest, I might be able to finish it.

I heard Christine walking up to me. I glanced at her for a moment before returning to "Don Juan." I felt her hand touch my face, and I closed my eyes, savoring her touch. Her hand moved onto my mask, and she caressed it gently. I trusted her too much. I thought that any curiosity she had with my face had faded. Apparently, I was wrong.

Without warning, Christine pulled off my mask. As soon as she saw what was behind the mask, she screamed in fright. Startled, I covered the abnormal half of my face with my hand and looked over at Christine, who was on the floor, crying. My shock quickly changed to anger, and I shouted, "Dm you!" I stood up and continued yelling at her. "You little prying Pandora! You little demon! Is this what you wanted to see?" I moved away from her, still fuming. "Curse you! You little lying Delilah! You little viper! Now you cannot ever be free! Dm you! Curse you!" My anger had burnt itself out. I paused to catch my breath.

"I'm sorry," Christine said apologetically, her voice shaking.

"Stranger than you dreamt it," I said, feeling empty on the inside. How could she ever love me now, after what she has seen? "Can you even dare to look or bear to think of me: this loathsome gargoyle who burns in hl but secretly yearns for heaven. Secretly…secretly…But Christine, fear can turn to love. You'll learn to see, to find the man behind the monster: this repulsive carcass who seems a beast but secretly dreams of beauty. Secretly…secretly…" I gazed at myself in a mirror, hating myself thoroughly for having scared her so badly. I walked back over to her and fell to my knees, feeling drained of my energy. "Oh, Christine," I whispered.

Neither of us moved for what felt like hours. Finally, Christine held out my mask, and I took it. I stood up and placed it back on my face. Once I was sure that it was on securely, I turned back to Christine. "Come, we must return," I said. "Those two fools who run my theatre will be missing you."

I took her hand and led her back to the boat. I took her back along the passageway to her dressing room. Once we were there, I unlocked the door and began making my way back to the tunnel behind the mirror. "Wait," Christine said. I turned to her. "Do you have a name?" I considered whether or not to tell her for a moment before I responded.

"Yes. I'm Erik." With that, I went into the tunnel and sealed the entrance. I gazed into her room for a few moments. Christine was looking at the mirror as though she knew that I was behind it watching her. I returned to my lair and grabbed the letters that I had written for André, Firmin, and Carlotta. I delivered the letter for Carlotta before searching the opera for Madam Giry.

"Do you have another letter for me to give the managers?" she asked me when she saw me. I nodded and handed it to her. "Is there anything else?"

"Yes," I answered. "Miss Daaé is in her dressing room. I would suggest that she go home without anyone questioning her. She has had a trying day so far."

"I will ensure that she gets home immediately," Madam Giry said. I felt a surge of gratitude toward her.

"Thank you." I returned to the passageways in the walls of the opera and made my way to the main lobby. I wanted to know how everyone reacted to my letters. I was in for a very entertaining time.


	6. Several Notes of Concern

Chapter 5

Several Notes of Concern

I waited for only a few minutes before Firmin entered the lobby holding a newspaper. " 'Mystery after gala night,' it says. 'Mystery of soprano's flight!' 'Mystified,' baffled Surerte say. 'We are mystified. We suspect foul play!'" He lowered the newspaper. "Bad news on soprano's scene," he said. "First Carlotta, now Christine! Still, at least the seats get sold. Gossip's worth its weight in gold." He walked up the stairs toward his office. "What a way to run a business! Spare me these unending trails! Half the cast disappears, but the crowd still cheers, 'Opera.' To hl with Gluck and Handel! Have a scandal and you'll pack them in the aisles!"

André stormed out of his office in a temper. _What's the matter? _I thought. _The show was a success, after all. Why are you so angry? _I laughed to myself. "Damnable!" André shouted. "Will they all walk out? This is damnable!"

"André, please don't shout!" Firmin said, trying to quiet him. "It's publicity, and the take is vast! Free publicity!"

"But we have no cast!" André argued. I waited to see how Firmin would react to that. Firmin was still calm, which didn't surprise me. Even though he had only been a manager for two days, I could already tell that he was a hardheaded idiot.

"But, André, have you seen the queue?" He spotted the letter that André was holding. "Oh, it seems you've got one, too." André opened my letter and read it aloud.

" 'Dear André, what a charming gala! Christine enjoyed a great success! We were hardly bereft when Carlotta left. Otherwise, the chorus was entrancing, but the dancing was a lamentable mess!'" I grinned at the look of anger on André's face. Firmin opened his letter.

" 'Dear Firmin, just a brief reminder: my salary has not been paid. Send it care of the ghost by return of post. P.T.O.: No one likes a debtor, so it's better if my orders are obeyed!" Firmin was outraged. "Who would have the gall to send this?" he asked. _Myself, obviously, _I thought.

"Someone with a puerile brain!" André answered. I raised my eyebrows at that.

"These are both signed 'O.G.,'" Firmin observed.

"Who the hl is he?"

"Opera Ghost!" they said at the same time.

"It's really not amusing," Firmin said, angered.

"He's abusing our position!"

"In addition, he wants money!"

"He's a funny sort of specter to expect a large retainer!"

"Nothing plainer, he is clearly quite insane!" The Vicomte burst through the doors in to the lobby.

"Where is she?" he asked the managers.

"You mean Carlotta?" André asked. The Vicomte shook his head and began climbing the stairs toward them.

"I mean Miss Daaé. Where is she?" he asked again.

"How should we know?" Firmin asked.

"I want an answer!" the Vicomte said. He pulled out the letter that I had sent him. "I take it that you sent me this note?" Firmin and André looked confused.

"What's all this nonsense?" Firmin asked.

"Of course not!" André said in response to the Vicomte's question. "Don't look at us!"

"She's not with you, then?"

"Of course not!" Firmin cried.

"We're in the dark," André added.

"Monsieur, don't argue. Isn't this the letter you wrote?" Firmin approached the Vicomte.

"What is it that we're meant to have wrote?" Firmin asked. "Written," he corrected. He took the letter that the Vicomte was holding and read it.

" 'Do not fear for Miss Daaé. The Angel of Music has her under his wing. Make no attempt to see her again.'" Firmin and André looked mystified.

"If you didn't write it, then who did?" Carlotta and Piangi entered the lobby, and Carlotta looked like she could explode.

"Where is he?" she asked.

"Ah, welcome back!" André cried, pleased to see her back.

"Your precious patron—where is he?" she repeated.

"What is it now?" the Vicomte asked.

"I have your letter—a letter which I rather resent!" she told him, outraged. He looked confused.

"Did you send it?" Firmin asked. He shook his head.

"You didn't send it?"

"No, I didn't."

"What's going on?" Firmin asked, but he was ignored.

"You dare to tell me that this is not the letter you sent?" The Vicomte seized the letter.

"What is it that I'm meant to have sent?" He read it. " 'Your days at the Opéra Populaire are numbered. Christine Daaé will be singing on your behalf tonight. Be prepared for a great misfortune should you attempt to take her place.'" Firmin grabbed the letter from the Vicomte and compared it to the others.

"Far to many notes for my taste," he commented. "Most of them are about Christine. All we've heard since we came is Miss Daaé's name." Madam Giry entered the lobby with her daughter.

"Miss Daaé has returned," she told them.

"I trust her midnight oil is well and truly burned," Firmin said dryly.

"Where is she now?" André asked.

"She is at home," Madam Giry answered.

"She needed rest," Meg added. The Vicomte went down the stairs to Madam Giry.

"May I see her?"

"No, Monsieur, she will see no one."

"Will she sing?" Carlotta asked. "Will she sing?" Madam Giry pulled out the letter I gave her.

"Here, I have a note," she said.

"Let me see it!" Firmin, André, Carlotta, and the Vicomte cried, rushing over to Madam Giry. The Vicomte got the note first, but Firmin snatched it from him and opened it.

" 'Gentlemen, I have now sent you several notes of the most amiable nature detailing how my theatre is to be run,'" he read. " 'You have not followed my instructions. I shall give you one last chance. Christine Daaé has returned to you, and I am anxious her career should progress. In the new production of 'Il Muto,' you will therefore cast Carlotta as the Pageboy, and put Miss Daaé in the role of Countess. The role which Miss Daaé plays calls for charm and appeal. The role of the Pageboy is silent, which makes my casting in a word, ideal. I shall watch the performance from my normal seat in Box Five, which will be kept empty for me. Should these commands be ignored, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur. I remain, gentlemen, you obedient servant, O.G.'"

"Christine!" Carlotta cried. "This is all a ploy to help Christine!"

"This is insane," Firmin said, looking over the letter.

"I know who sent this!" Carlotta proclaimed. She pointed an accusatory finger at the Vicomte. "The Vicomte—her lover!"

"Indeed?" the Vicomte responded sarcastically. "Can you believe this?" he asked the managers, who shook their heads.

"Signora, this is a joke!" André told Carlotta, who was rambling on in French. "This changes nothing!" She ignored him and began storming toward the door.

"Signora, you are our star!" Firmin cried, following her. "You always will be! We don't take orders!" She pretended not to hear him.

"Miss Daaé will be playing the Pageboy!" André announced, causing Carlotta to stop in her tracts. I glared at him. The fool had no idea what he was doing. "The silent role! Carlotta will be playing the lead!" Carlotta spun around.

"It's useless trying to appease me!" she cried. "You're only saying this to please me!" She continued on her way to the door. André and Firmin ran after her.

"Please, Signora," André begged. "We need you! Your public needs you!" Carlotta stopped walking and laughed.

"Would you not rather have your precious little angel?" she asked reproachfully. _That would be _my _angel, not theirs, _I thought.

"Signora, no," Firmin answered. "The world wants you." I very much doubted that, and so, apparently, did Carlotta.

"Really?" she asked. "What about all of those notes about Christine?"

"They mean nothing, Signora," André assured her. "You are our prima donna. You will be the first lady on the stage. Your devotees are on their knees to implore you!" Carlotta seemed tempted by his words.

"Can you bow out when they're shouting your name?" Firmin asked. "Think of how they all adore you!" I was disgusted by those words. I had it in my mind to leave right then, but I wanted to see if Carlotta would accept their bait.

"Prima donna, your song shall live again!" Carlotta said in triumph. I had my answer. I didn't need to stay. I went back into the tunnel I used to get there and began making my way to my lair.

"So, it is to be war between us," I said. "If these demands are ignored, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur."


	7. Il Muto and the Murder

Chapter 6

"Il Muto" and the Murder

For the rest of the day until the performance began, I was preparing for what I was going to do. I was going to ensure that Christine would play the main role. What I planned to do would make Carlotta so humiliated that she wouldn't have the courage to continue. It wasn't going to be easy, though. I would have to make sure no one saw me, the least of all Joseph Buquet. He seemed to have a recent interest in following me, something I wouldn't recommend unless you have a death wish.

I waited behind the mirror in Christine's dressing room until she had left, then I entered her room and placed the rose I had for her on the table like I had done for the last performance. After that, I made my way toward the stage, or, more specifically, above it. I heard Buquet approaching, and I climbed up the ropes holding up the catwalks. I was sure that he had seen me, but he was probably too drunk to realize it. Just then, the curtain opened and the performance of "Il Muto" began.

"They say that this youth has set my Lady's heart aflame!" sang one of the people on the stage as Christine, dressed as a maid, walked out onto the stage with a feather duster. I stared down in disgust. Carlotta should be playing the part of Serafimo the Pageboy, not Christine.

The opera continued, and the time for me to act was coming up. I started making my way down to the stage level when I saw Carlotta readying herself to go on by taking a spray from her atomizer. As she was walking out onto the stage, I took her atomizer and switched it for mine. While hers had a vocal spray, mine contained a concoction that I had made. Now, all I had to do was give Carlotta the chance to use it.

As I had expected, André and Firmin had completely disregarded my commands. The Vicomte was sitting in my box, which suited my purposes completely. I made my way up toward the narrow path circling the chandelier that was usually used for maintenance. Once I was there, I spoke.

"Did I not instruct that box five was to be left empty?" I asked, allowing my voice to fill the entire theatre. The actors on the stage stopped what they were doing.

"It's him!" Christine cried.

"Your part is silent!" Carlotta snapped at her. "Little toad!" My eyebrows rose in amusement.

"A toad, Madame?" I said with a small laugh. "Perhaps it is you who are the toad." Carlotta went to the side of the stage to my atomizer. She took a spray from it and returned to the stage, ready to start the scene over.

"Serafimo, away with this pretence!" she sang. "You cannot speak, but kiss me in my _croak!_" Carlotta had suddenly croaked like a toad. I laughed. The arrogant witch was finally getting what she deserved. I wondered whether or not she would continue singing. Unfortunately, she did. "Poor fool he makes me laugh," she sang cautiously. "Hahahaha! Haha _croak! Croak! Croak! Croak!_" I laughed harder than ever. I knew that everyone in the opera could hear me, but I didn't care. This was too hilarious. "I cannot go on!" she cried before running off the stage. The curtain closed and the managers stepped onto the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Firmin said, "we apologize. The performance will continue in ten minutes time when the role of the Countess will be sung by Miss Christine Daaé." The audience applauded.

"Until that time, we will be giving you the ballet from act three of tonight's performance," André announced. "Maestro, the ballet. Now." They stepped off the stage, and I returned to the maintenance route. I heard footsteps behind me, and I knew that Buquet was following me. The fool.

I quickened my pace, turning where I could, and I found myself back above the stage. Buquet was still following me, and I decided to play a little game with him. I hid in a shadow and allowed him to pass by me before I emerged and began following him. He knew something was wrong, and he quickened his pace. I followed suit.

Buquet was almost running when he reached a dead end. He stopped and turned around, and almost bumped into me. He cried out in terror, and I cursed under my breath. If he drew attention to my being here, there would be trouble. I had to silence him, perhaps permanently.

He was running as fast as he could away from me, and I ran after him. This continued for a few minutes, and during this time, the ballet was playing. Somehow, Buquet had managed to get out of my sight, but when I went out onto one of the parallel catwalks above the stage, Buquet was on the other one. We both tried to go in the same direction, and then we stopped. We tried the other direction, and we stopped again. Finally, Buquet ran the other way, and I grabbed the rope holding up the catwalk and began climbing.

After running like a madman to get away from me, Buquet found himself back on the catwalk. I dropped down at the other end of it and shook it. Buquet stumbled and almost fell off. The ballet below us was almost over. I approached Buquet, a noose in my hand. Buquet could only cry out in fear as I slipped the noose around his neck. I tightened it, and he gagged. After a few seconds, he went limp. I tied the rope to one of the support ropes of the catwalk and pushed him over the side. He fell a short distance until there was a sudden jerk, and I knew he was dead.

There were screams from people in the audience and on the stage. The support rope of the catwalk snapped, and I had to grab another to avoid falling down onto the stage. The body of Buquet fell onto the stage, triggering more screams. I heard the footsteps of several people heading my way, and I climbed upward. I vanished into one of my tunnels, and sealed the entrance behind me.

I felt drained of energy. I knew what I had just done, and I knew that I would pay for it later. If Christine heard about this, as she probably would in no time at all, then she would be more afraid of me than she already was. I didn't want her to fear me, but I had just murdered someone, and I knew that she would never forgive me.


	8. Rooftop Betrayal

Chapter Seven

Rooftop Betrayal

I was heading back toward my lair when I heard the most peculiar thing through the wall. It was Christine. I knew that I was near her dressing room, but I didn't expect her to be there at the moment. "Raoul! Raoul!" she cried. She was searching for the Vicomte.

"Christine, come with me," came the Vicomte's voice. Obviously, she found him.

"No, to the roof," she said. "We'll be safe there." _To the roof? _I thought. _The roof is the farthest part of the theatre away from my lair. She's going to tell the Vicomte something that she doesn't want me to hear, and I don't think I want to hear it. Nevertheless, I will meet them up there. _I changed my course and made my way up to the roof. I made it there before them, and I hid behind one of the statues. Not long afterwards, Christine and the Vicomte arrived. Christine was holding the rose that I had given her in her hand.

"Why have you brought us here?" the Vicomte asked. "We must return."

"He'll kill me!" she cried. A sharp pain shot through my heart at this. "His eyes will find me there! Those eyes that burn!"

"Don't say that," he said, trying to calm her. "Don't even think it."

"And if he has to kill a thousand men," she continued, "the Phantom of the Opera will kill and kill again!" It's amazing how much your opinion of someone can change from a single action of theirs. She had gone from almost loving me to loathing me, and I hated it.

"There is no 'Phantom of the Opera!'" The naïve fool.

"My God, who is this man who hunts to kill?" Christine asked, tears running down her face. "I can't escape from him! I never will. And in this labyrinth where night is blind, the Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my mind…"

"Christine, the 'Phantom' is a fable. Believe me." He put his hand on her shoulder, but she turned and walked away from him, frustrated.

"Raoul, I've been there! I've been to his world of unending night. To his world where the daylight dissolves into darkness. Raoul, I've _seen _him!" She seemed utterly terrified. "Can I ever forget that sight? Can I ever escape from that face? So distorted, deformed, it was hardly a face, in that darkness." I sighed silently. If I had any control over my face, then it wouldn't look the way it does. It could strike fear in a blind man.

I wanted to leave and return to my lair, but I knew that I couldn't. I had to hear what she was saying about me. If she was going to continue with the same tone, I knew that staying would be difficult. Then, to my surprise, the tone in her voice changed. "But his voice filled my spirit with a strange, sweet sound," she told the Vicomte. "In the night, there was music in my mind, and through music my soul began to soar and I heard as I'd never heard before."

"What you heard was a dream, and nothing more."

"Yet in his eyes was all the sadness of the world. Those pleading eyes that both threaten and adore."

"Christine, Christine," the Vicomte said comfortingly.

"Christine," I echoed. I knew she heard me because she looked around, worried. She turned to face the Vicomte, who hugged her gently. My insides burned with anger.

"No more talk of darkness," he said. "Forget these wide-eyed fears. I'm here. Nothing can harm you. My words will warm and calm you. Let me be your freedom. Let daylight dry your tears. I'm here, with you, beside you to guard you and to guide you." He released her. She took a few steps away from him before turning to him again.

"Say you love me every waking moment," she said. The breath caught up in my chest. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Turn my head with talk of summertime." I closed my eyes, trying to right back tears. "Say you need me with you, here, beside you. Anywhere you go let me go to. That's all I ask of you."

"Let me be your freedom." I wanted the Vicomte to shut his naïve mouth. "Let me be your light. You're safe. No one will find you. Your fears are far behind you."

"All I want is freedom," Christine continued, "a world with no more night, and you, always beside me to hold me and to hide me." As she said "a world with no more night," a tear ran down the normal side of my face.

"Then say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Let me lead you from your solitude. Say you need me with you, here, beside you. Anywhere you go let me go, too. Christine, that's all I ask of you."

"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime." Christine had dropped the rose I gave her. "Say the word and I will follow you. Share each day with me, each night, each morning. Say you love me."

"You know I do," the Vicomte said.

"Love me. That's all I ask of you." They kissed, and I thought the pain in my heart would kill me. In fact, I wished that it would. "Anywhere you go let me go, too."

"Love me. That's all I ask of you." They kissed again, and Christine, all sadness gone, lead the Vicomte towards the door to the stairs.

"I must go," she said. "They'll wonder where I am. Come with me, Raoul."

"Christine, I love you."

"Order your fine horses. Be with them at the door."

"And soon, you'll be beside me."

"You'll guard me and you'll guide me." They went through the door, and I stepped out from behind the statue. I fell to my knees in front of the rose Christine had dropped. My arms felt leaden as I picked up the rose and gazed sadly at it.

"I gave you my music," I said, my voice barely above a whisper and shaking. "I made your song take wing, and now, how you've repaid me, denied me, and betrayed me. He was bound to love you when he heard you sing." I sobbed openly, unable to hold back my tears any longer. It was rather ironic that the one time that I had fallen in love, the one that I loved would chose another instead of me. I wondered if, with certain conditions, she might choose me after all. The thought gave me an idea.

I tore the soft petals off and the rose and dropped the stem before rising to my feet. "You will curse the day you did not do all that the Phantom asked of you!" I yelled to the starry sky. I knew what I was going to do, and I needed to finish "Don Juan Triumphant" to pull it off.


	9. The Masquerade

Chapter Eight

The Masquerade

Over the next six months, I stayed in my lair, working nonstop on "Don Juan." I managed to finish it with enough time to thoroughly think out my plan. That night, the Opéra Populaire would be hosting a masquerade ball. I would go to the ball to deliver "Don Juan" to the managers personally. It would be a decent shock for them, for I knew that most of the people working at the opera believed me to be gone forever. I could almost imagine the looks on their faces when I arrive.

When the masquerade was about to begin, I made my way up to the lobby. I was wearing a blood red outfit, a skull-like mask, a long red cape, and I had a sword sheathed at my left hip. From the sound of it, the masquerade had a nice turnout, which was good for me. I went to the back of the lobby and exited my passageway, making sure no one was watching when I did. No one noticed that I was there until I was standing at the top of the lobby stairs. The people who were dancing stopped. The chatter died. Every eye was focused on me.

I took a step down the stairs. "Why so silent, good messieurs?" I asked with a certain amount of innocence. "Did you think that I had left you for good?" The looks on the faces of the managers were priceless. "Have you missed me, good messieurs? I have written you an opera. Here I bring the finished score—'Don Juan Triumphant.'" I threw the manuscript that I was carrying at the feet of the managers.

"Fondest greetings to you all," I said coolly, glancing around the lobby. "I have a few instructions just before rehearsal starts." My eyes fixed on Carlotta, and I drew my sword. "Carlotta must be taught to act," I said, pointing my sword at her. "And I don't mean her normal trick of strutting around the stage." Piangi, who was standing beside her, looked furious. He tried to come at me, but it touched the tip of my sword to his stomach. "Our Don Juan must loose some weight. It's not healthy in a man of Piangi's age." I grinned slyly. I casually turned away from them and focused my attention on André and Firmin. As I did, though, I noticed that the Vicomte, who had been standing with Christine at the bottom of the stairs, had left. "And my managers must learn that their place is in an office, not the arts." I moved my sword from André to Firmin as I said this, and they looked both terrified and outraged at the same time.

"As for our star," I said as I sheathed my sword, "Miss Christine Daaé." I glanced over at her, and she shuddered. I addressed everyone in the lobby as I said, "No doubt she'll do her best. It's true her voice is good. She knows though should she wish to excel—she has much still to learn—if pride would let her return to me: her teacher." My attention fell back onto her, and she took a step toward me. This surprised me, but what surprised me more was the expression on her face. She wasn't frightened, she was completely calm. I absentmindedly took a few steps toward her, and we found ourselves face to face. I looked into her eyes, and she looked back into mine. I saw an engagement ring on a chain around her neck. I seized it and pulled off of her. "Your chains are still mine!" I said harshly. "You belong to me!" I saw the Vicomte approaching us with a sword, and I ran up the stairs. Using a magician's trick that I had learned, I dropped down through a trapdoor in the floor, leaving a burst of fire behind me. There were gasps around the lobby, but the Vicomte dropped down into the floor after me.

This particular trapdoor led to a room full of mirrors. The Vicomte looked around, but all he saw was himself. I decided to toy with him, and I stepped out from behind a mirror and several other me's did the same. He swung his sword at my reflection in a mirror, and was disappointed to discover that it wasn't the real me. I laughed, and my voice echoed eerily through the room. I continued to move around the room, making my reflection appear and disappear in the mirrors. The Vicomte was beginning to panic. He was swinging his sword at my reflections with an increased sense of urgency. He probably would have lost his mind if Madam Giry hadn't put her hand on his shoulder and led him out of the room.

I wasn't entirely pleased that she did this, but it worked with my plan. I didn't follow them. Instead, I went back down to my lair. I was looking forward to getting a bit of rest, knowing that my plan was in motion.


	10. The Cemetery

Chapter Nine

The Cemetery

The next morning, I made my way up to Christine's dormitory room on one of the top floors of the theatre. I wanted to speak with her; to tell her the way I feel about her. Unfortunately, there were no tunnels that led into her room, so I would have to go in through the door. When I arrived at her room, I saw that the Vicomte was sleeping right outside her door. I cursed under my breath. Opening the door could wake the Vicomte, and he had a sword with him. I did, too, but in front of Christine's room was no place for a duel.

I decided that I would find another time to speak with her, and I went back into the passageway that I had used to get there. As I entered it, I heard Christine's door open. I spun around to see Christine exiting her room and then walking down the stairs. I followed her.

A few minutes later, she was out of the theatre and was speaking with the man in charge of the carriages. "Where to, miss?" the man asked her when she handed him a few francs.

"The cemetery," she replied. _She must be going to visit her father's grave, _I thought. _If I go with her, I'll have the opportunity I need to speak with her and get her back on my side. _I noticed a man preparing a carriage for her outside. I snuck up behind him and, as soon as the carriage was ready, knocked him unconscious and hid him from view. I put on his cloak and put up the hood. As Christine approached, I climbed into the driver's seat of the carriage and grabbed the horse's reins. "To my father's grave, please," she said to me. I shook the reins, and the horse started trotting.

The ride to the cemetery passed by in silence. If I revealed who I was to her then, she might have jumped out. It felt like forever, but we eventually reached the cemetery's gate. I pulled on the reins to stop the carriage, and Christine got out. I shook the reins again, and moved the carriage away from the gate. Once Christine was out of sight, I stopped the carriage and got out. I tied the reins of the horse to a tree before entering the cemetery to find Christine.

I found her in front of a mausoleum which I supposed was the grave of her father. She was talking to it when I arrived, and I went behind it and climbed on top of it. She apparently couldn't see me, or didn't care, because she continued speaking to the grave. "You were once my one companion. You were all that mattered. You were once a friend and father. Then my world was shattered. Wishing you were somehow here again. Wishing you were somehow here. Sometimes it seemed if I just dreamed somehow you would be here. Wishing I could hear your voice again, knowing that I never would. Dreaming of you won't help me to do all that you dreamed I could.

"Passing bells and sculpted angels, cold and monumental, seem for you the wrong companions. You were warm and gentle." I felt a swell of pity toward her. She really missed her father. "Too many years fighting back tears. Why can't the past just die? Wishing you were somehow here again. Knowing we must say good bye. Try to forgive. Teach me to live. Give me the strength to try. No more memories. No more silent tears. No more gazing across the wasted years. Help me say good bye." She sighed heavily, depressed.

"Wandering child—so lost, so helpless—yearning for my guidance," I said, my voice full of sorrow. She looked up at where I was hiding.

"Angel or father? Friend or phantom? Who is it there, staring?" she asked.

"Have you forgotten your angel?"

"Angel, oh speak! What endless longings echo in this whisper!"

"Too long you've wandered in winter," I said, "far from my far looming gaze."

"Wildly my mind beats against you," she said, walking toward the mausoleum.

"You resist, yet your soul obeys."

"Angel of Music! I denied you! Turning from true beauty! Angel of Music! My protector! Come to me strange Angel!"

"I am your Angel," I said hypnotically. "Come to me: Angel of Music." At that moment, the sound of hoof beats echoed around the cemetery. The Vicomte had arrived on a white horse. He jumped off and approached Christine.

"Christine!" he cried. She ignored him. "Christine!" She still ignored him. "Christine, listen to me. Whatever you may believe, this man, this thing, is not your father." She was still in the trance I had put her in. He looked up at me. "Let her go! For God's sake! Let her go! Christine!" Christine snapped out of the trance and turned to him.

"Raoul!" she cried. Anger burned inside of me. I leapt off of the mausoleum and seized a pike with a skull impaled on its end that was sticking out of the ground. Using a complex magic trick, I shot a ball of fire at the Vicomte. He backed away, and the fireball landed at his feet and instantly went out.

"Bravo, Monsieur!" I said. "Such spirited words!" I shot another fireball at him, but he dodged.

"More tricks, Monsieur?" the Vicomte asked. He drew his sword and ran at me, but another fireball caused him to back away.

"Let's see, Monsieur, how far you dare go!" I said with a laugh. I shot another fireball at him, and he barely avoided it. Still, he tried to get closer to me.

"Raoul, no!" Christine cried. He ignored her and continued walking toward me.

"That's right, Monsieur! Keep walking this way!" My next fireball, like the previous one, almost hit him.

"Raoul, don't!" Christine cried, running to him and grabbing his arm.

"Stay back!" he ordered, shaking her off of him. She backed away.

"I'm here, I'm here, Monsieur: the angel of death!" Another fireball caused the Vicomte to back away a few steps. "Come on, come on, Monsieur! Don't stop!" He was only a few feet from me. He took a swipe at me with his sword, and I held up the pike to block. His sword cut the pike in two and skimmed my shoulder. I drew my sword and tried to slash him, but he brought his sword up to block.

I tried to slash him again, but he parried my sword and aimed a blow at my head. I ducked and swiped at his legs. He jumped over my sword, and tried a vertical attack. I blocked it, and his blade stopped a few inches from my head. I pushed upward and punched him in the stomach with my left hand. He fell backwards and rolled a short way downhill until he hit a gravestone. He leapt back up to his feet, and lunged at me. I blocked his blade, and our duel continued.

"Please, stop!" Christine cried, but we ignored her. "Raoul! Erik! Please!" My shock at her using my name almost cost me my life as the Vicomte took advantage of my distraction and tried to stab me. Luckily, I was able to dodge his sword in time.

"So, your name's Erik, is it?" the Vicomte said as he blocked a blow aimed at his head.

"That's none of your concern," I hissed, trying to slash him again. He blocked. I tried again, and he blocked again. He took a swipe at me, and I parried his sword and slashed his arm. He cried out in agony and fell to the ground. I tried to stab him, but he knocked my sword to the side and rose back to his feet. He seemed desperate, and his attacks became faster. I was having trouble blocking his sword. I was backing away from him, forced to stay on the defensive. He threw himself into me, and we both fell to the ground.

The Vicomte got up first and hit the hilt of my sword. The vibrations caused my grip to loosen, and he kicked my sword away. I tried to get up, but he kicked me in the chest, keeping me down. He raised his sword, and I knew it was over. He was about to kill me when Christine cried, "Raoul, don't do it!" He turned to her.

"Christine, this man wants both of us dead!" I looked over at her, silently begging her to spare my life.

"I cannot bear to see him killed," she said. "Not like this." The Vicomte looked down at me for a moment before sheathing his sword and walking over to Christine. He took her by the arm and helped her onto his horse. Once she was on, he jumped on behind her and kicked the horse's sides. It neighed loudly before cantering past me.

I stayed on the ground until after the horse had passed me, trying to catch my breath. I was exhausted. Once my breath was back, I got up and walked over to where my sword was laying. I picked it up and sheathed it. It was hard to believe what had just happened. The Vicomte would have killed me if Christine hadn't interfered. It was flattering that Christine didn't want to see me die, but I was now in her debt, which was a feeling that I didn't enjoy.

It would be difficult for me to continue with my plan, but I knew that I had to. In fact, now that I thought about it, death wouldn't have been that bad. If anything, it would be a blessing. I would have left this world and all of its cruelty. Why had I wanted Christine to stop him? Why did she stop him? To prolong my suffering over her, perhaps. It was obvious that she loved the Vicomte. Why did she spare me?

Even though I loved Christine, I knew that my only option was to give her the difficult choice that would come at the end of my plan. No matter which choice she would make, I would win. She would wish that she had let the Vicomte kill me here. "Now, let it be war upon you both," I said aloud before running back to the carriage. I untied the reins, jumped into the driver's seat, and returned to the theatre.


End file.
